


i'm so full of love i can barely breathe

by PANTAL00NS



Series: heaven and shell were words to me [1]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hanahaki Disease, Unrequited Love, pearl-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PANTAL00NS/pseuds/PANTAL00NS
Summary: Pearl loves Marina Iida.That is a simple, inarguable truth.





	i'm so full of love i can barely breathe

**Author's Note:**

> _Hanahaki Disease_ \-- an illness born from unrequited love, where the patient’s lungs will fill up with flowers. The disease can be cured either by having the the feelings returned, or through surgical removal of the flowers (at the cost of also losing the feelings of love).
> 
> [Writing playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5IxTCi3JujdFwW01cYw56F), for those interested!
> 
>  **EDIT:** Now with [fanart](https://benchmarkz.tumblr.com/post/185596539250/more-drawings-for-fic-week-these-are-inspired) by [Polarus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polarus)!  
> And more [art](https://pam849.tumblr.com/post/187100493795) by [Pam](https://twitter.com/pamsheep849)!

It starts with a painful squeezing of her chest.  Not unusual.  Sometimes her chest will seize after she’s strained herself with music.  While it has not at all been a frequent occurrence, it is nothing truly concerning.  All it gives Pearl is a thought that maybe, just maybe, she should stop blowing out her voice for dramatic effect at the end of every concert.  Of course, that is a thought she dismisses.  She is _Pearl Hime Houzuki_.  Nothing as inconsequential as a blown voice is going to bring her down.  
  
The thing is, though, that it doesn’t get better.  Not in the way she usually does after a full day of rest and Marina’s gentle scolding.  
  
Instead, she finds herself in the bathroom after one news broadcast, coughing out over the sink as her chest clamps down in a way that is far, far more painful than anything she has ever experienced.  It stabs through her, twisting like little needles embedding through her lungs and up her throat.  The spasm lasts only a few seconds, but it is enough to get the point across.  Something is _wrong_.  
  
There in the sink lies the culprit.  A single flower petal.  
  
Horrified, fascinated, she plucks it between her thumb and forefinger.  Sure, it looks innocent enough – long and thin, beautiful blueish-teal in color, unlike anything she’s ever seen – but Pearl knows.  Oh, she _knows_.  She could be dense, but she isn’t stupid.  This was only the beginning.  
  
_“Fuck me.”  
  
_Rather than deal with it, a quick twist of the knob sends the offending petal down the drain.  Later.  It would go away.  It _always_ went away.  She would get on like nothing was wrong – because nothing _was_ wrong.  This was just temporary.  
  
She has to believe that.  If she stops believing that, it would be as good as admitting defeat, and _Pearl Hime Houzuki_ never admits defeat.  
  
\---  
  
Pearl loves Marina Iida.  
  
That is a simple, inarguable truth.  
  
If she were asked what all she liked about the younger woman, Pearl would need at least five notebooks to dedicate to the subject.  At least.  (She would also admit that she was low-balling that number.)  Not that she ever thought about what all she liked about Marina, but there were times here or there, just simple things.  Marina leaving her blanket out and Pearl not even thinking as she went through the motions to pick it up, fold it, and set it on her chair.  Things like that.  Like living with Marina was just a part of Pearl’s own identity by this point.  Two parts of a whole.  Two peas in a pod.  All that sappy shit.  
  
So when she says she loves Marina, it is the honest truth.  She loves Marina with all three of her hearts.  
  
The problem, the _glaring problem_ though, is that there is more than one kind of love.  Which everyone knows, really, even if they don’t think about it.  Everyone loves in different ways, and everyone loves different people in different ways.  
  
Pearl loves Agent 8.  Pearl loves her father.  Pearl loves Marina.  
  
All of those are true.  She loves Agent 8 as a friend and the little sister she never got to have.  She loves her father, who raised her and taught her and has never wavered in his support.  And she loves Marina, who is her absolute best and most cherished friend.  
  
Three of those things would never make her cough up petals, though.  Hanahaki disease only afflicts those who suffer from unrequited love, typically romantic in nature.  Agent 8 loves her, platonically.  Her father loves her, paternally.  Marina loves her, as a friend.  Perfect balance.  No issue.  No agonizing choking over shrubbery that decided that growing in her chest cavity was a good idea.  
  
But now, staring down at a turquoise petal that, with a smattering of her own pink ink dotting the center made it _uncannily_ similar to Marina’s eyes – she must accept that something has changed.  The feelings, the emotions she had carefully cultivated, have shifted.  
  
Pearl is _in love_ with her best friend.  
  
Isn’t that a terrifying thought?  Because she _can’t_ get the problem taken care of.  No simple snipping the roots out of her chest and being done with it here.  If the flowers go, so does her love for Marina.  The question is, _which_ love does she lose?  The friendship-platonic love, or the deep-seated romantic love? Both?  
  
If she’s being honest with herself, she’s too damn scared to find out.  
  
\---  
  
One may not think it from looking at her at first glance, but Pearl is an exceedingly good actress.  She has to be, all things considered.  You don’t climb the way to celebrity status without some passing knowledge of the art, and Pearl has long-since learned how to cater to an audience from the days when she wore all black and screamed into a microphone.  
  
Those days had long gone by, but her skill at acting had not.  
  
It comes so easily to her.  She can put on a front when talking to her dad, during interviews, and can even play the part of the less competent new co-host without using a script.  So of _course_ she can play off her condition like it’s nothing.  It _is_ nothing, after all.  Just minor coughing spasms.  A sore throat and chest.  Nothing that doesn’t affect even the best of singers.  
  
Except Marina notices, because Marina is _observant_.  It’s a part of what makes Marina, well, _Marina_.  She sees the tiny details, and she plans accordingly.  She takes all contingencies into consideration.  The woman is a perfectionist, which is both endearing and frustrating in equal amounts.  Especially right now when Pearl is trying her damnedest to hide something from her.  
  
Pearl barely makes it two weeks before Marina catches her after one recording session.  “Pearlie?”  The octoling’s voice is so concerned that Pearl can’t find it in herself to ignore that tone, and glances to her companion questioningly.  Before she can say a word, there are cool fingers reaching out, touching her face.  No doubt trying to feel for a fever.  “Your cough has been getting worse, Pearlie.  Maybe you should see a doctor?”  
  
There’s a moment of panic, caught between the points of “oh no she knows”, scolding herself because _no shit_ Marina is too smart to _not_ figure it out, and then dismay because she thought she’d at least have more time.  But Pearl doesn’t say all that, schools her expression to nonchalance, and smacks Marina’s hand away – gently, in a friendly sort of way.  
  
“Psh.  Don’t be such a worry-whale.”  The shorter girl offers a grin, trying (she hopes) to be reassuring.  “It’s probably just from blowing my voice out at our last gig.”  It’s not that she likes lying to Marina.  Quite the opposite, in fact, Pearl already feels the guilt and self-hate building in her gut from even that little fib to her best friend.  But she doesn’t want Marina to worry, and she most certainly doesn’t want Marina to find out that she’s hacking up flower petals.  Pearl just wants things to be…. _normal_.  For as long as they can be.  Until this stupid problem _goes away_.  
  
Marina isn’t convinced, though.  She pinches her expression into a frown, but she sighs and lets the matter drop.  “Okay.  But… promise me you’ll see someone if it gets worse?”  
  
Well.  Pearl can give that much.  “Sure thing, Marina.”  Even if that lie sits harder than the other.  No way in shell was Pearl going to see someone if this got worse.  Not that it would get worse (honestly, she just has to bide her time), but still.  She had no plans to see a damn soul about it.  They’d insist on things like _treatment_ and _surgery_.  Ain’t no way that was happening.  
  
So she pinky promises (lies), because that’s a thing best friends do sometimes over important carp, and Marina drops the subject.  
  
\---  
  
The prognosis for hanahaki is one year from the onset of the condition, but it varies considerably.  At least, that is what her considerable search history informs her.  The grace period is one month.  If the disease does not dissipate on its own after one month, treatment is advised.  She can find small things, ways to alleviate the pain until surgical removal, cases where the disease progressed so much that it ruptured the airways of patients, instances of inklings passing out.  One unfortunate instance of an inkling going unconscious from lack of air, then dying from choking on a mixture of petals, stems, leaves, and ink.  
  
It seems, from her digging, that most who forgo treatment die as early as six months after the disease begins, for those with the most severe of symptoms.  
  
Pearl is on her second, but shells if it doesn’t feel like her fifth, and she’s not getting any better.  Lately it’s been getting harder to breathe, and the attacks have been coming more and more frequently.  Worse, the _stupidest_ things have been triggering them.  Her day can be going just _fine_ and then she’ll see Marina out the corner of her eye, chewing on the cap of a mechanical pencil and pouting down at the music she’s been working on, as if it might get the notes and lyrics to behave.  Then just like that, her chest will seize, and Pearl will taste petals on the back of her beak.  
  
And it doesn’t get any better.  Marina can be doing _nothing at all_ , she can be just sitting in the rocking chair with a blanket tucked around her legs while she read a book and Pearl’s hearts will flutter sweetly then her stupid lungs will pick _that particular moment_ to start their carp.  Moment ruined.  
  
So, yeah, hanahaki is utter _sharkshit_ and can fuck right off for all she cares.  
  
But some good does come out of her poking and prodding around the internet.  She finds a forum for those who have endured hanahaki at some point in their lives, from those who underwent surgery to those who are suffering at the moment.  Some skimming shows a variety of stories, some happy, some sad.  That’s just what life is, though, isn’t it?  Ups and downs.  Good and bads.  
  
It’s with only a bit of hesitation that Pearl makes an account, picking the username _HYPERB0MB_ just in case someone she doesn’t want to find her posts stumbles across it.  Everyone she knows personally is aware of her usual usernames of choice, those that contain various flavors of “princess”, “MC”, or “pearlescent”.  This is completely different and, she hopes, not something anyone would think to trace back to her.  
  
Yet, even then, it’s still a week before she works up the courage to put her fingers to the keyboard and type out her first post.  
  
_HYPERB0MB >  Ayo.  Not looking for pity or anything.  Found out I’ve got it bad for my best friend like two months ago and it ain’t stopping.  Anyone else dealt with this carp willing to talk about how it went down for them?_  
  
That’s it.  Short and succinct.  Really, Pearl’s just looking for companionship.  Something to show that she isn’t alone.  Maybe stories of people who made it work out in the end.  It isn’t often people fall in love with their _best friend_ , after all.  Most of the people on here don’t seem to, at least.  
  
The responses… vary.  A lot of people give the usual pitying stuff Pearl specifically _didn’t_ want.  Some suggest that she tell her best friend about it if she hasn’t before, and those are promptly ignored because she _knows_ that Marina will insist on getting her treated and that is the last thing on Pearl’s mind right now.  But she does also find one or two stories from others who fell in love with their best friend.  
  
One talks about speaking with their friend about it, and their friend slowly coming to love them in return and how they’d been together for a few years (good for them, Pearl thinks).  The other mentions they underwent the surgery during their forth month into the disease at the urging of their parents, and after that they and their friend drifted apart and they hadn’t heard from them since.  Any nice, hopeful feelings about the first story dissipates after Pearl reads that one.  
  
She closes out of her web browser then, deletes her internet history, shuts the computer off, and finally lets herself break down and have a good, long cry.  
  
It doesn’t do anything except make her chest hurt that much more.  
  
\---  
  
There’s a Splatfest announcement come month three.  What many people don’t realize is that the Splatfest news announcements are always scripted in advance.  General banter is easy to do on the fly, especially with Marina, but when a Splatfest is on the line they have to sit and work together, ping-pong a script that is just silly enough for their audience’s appreciation while keeping up their on-air personas.  
  
The fact that people honestly think she eats mayonnaise straight out the jar, and with a fork, is both hilarious and disgusting, but proof enough that they have to be careful because people take what Off The Hook says _way_ too seriously.  So really, writing up the script is delicate because they don’t want to give their fans too wrong of an idea, not after the travesty that was several of those earlier Splatfests.  
  
They get the theme two weeks in advance, at least.  Contract obligations say they can’t talk about it to anyone, but Pearl still frowns when she sees the message.  
  
Pearl vs. Marina.  
  
_Joy_.  Not that she didn’t see this coming, not after the shitshow that was the Callie vs. Marie Splatfest, but she’d hoped that they’d have a bit more _tact_ this time.  And yeah, Pearl was egotistical enough to want her team to do well, but it wasn’t going to happen.  The thing was, the _shitty_ thing was, that her popularity was shit compared to Marina’s own.  It wasn’t even a competition.  Marina consistently outperformed her in polls, and honestly Pearl wasn’t jealous at all (Marina _deserved_ it after she’d worked so damn _hard_ to get where she was), but the fact of the matter stood.  Marina would win this one, no contest.  
  
Still, a contract was a contract and a job was a job.  They had no choice but to bounce script ideas off of each other, trying to find ways to playfully banter that wasn’t downright cruel or wicked.  So there they sat over takeout boxes, having mock chopstick fights as they try their best to come up with _anything_ that wouldn’t be a repeat of the ill-fated Callie vs. Marie Splatfest.  
  
The inkling has a headache, and a chestache.  She surrenders to the chopstick joust and flops back down to the rug with a groan.  “This stinks.  We ought to just quit.”  
  
Marina purses her lips at her friend and sets her own utensil down.  “It _is_ our last hosting session, Pearlie.”  The tone was gently admonishing.  “Our contract ends after this Splatfest.”  Pearl knows that tone.  It was the sort of _please have just a little more patience to get through this one last trial_ sort of tone.  The tone that made Pearl groan and give in with little by ways of a fight.  
  
“You’re right.  But it’s still a shitty Splatfest idea!  Assholes probably just want the _drama_ of seeing us fight…” she grumbles, arms splayed out uselessly as she stares up at the ceiling, stewing and sulking because she knows she’s right.  All anyone wanted these days was celebrity drama…  
  
Except, her vision is soon obstructed by Marina, peering down at her with a little smile.  “You know, I think we’re going about this all the wrong way.”  
  
And Pearl knows that smile.  It’s the wicked sort of devious smile Marina gets sometimes, usually when she gets her hands on some new technology.  Or when she’s being a sneaky little shit in a Turf match.  Regardless, it’s the sort of look that makes Pearl immediately frown up at her friend.  “What are you planning, Marina?”  
  
“Oh, nothing much.  But you know, there _is_ no rule that says we can’t vouch for each other…”  
  
All at once, Pearl gets what Marina’s hinting at.  There _is_ no rule that says Pearl has to sponsor Team Pearl, nor that Marina has to sponsor Team Marina.   All of a sudden Pearl’s sour mood is gone and she is sitting up with a grin.  “Holy carp, you’re a genius!”  Well, duh.  Marina is a damn prodigy, of course she’s a genius.  “We don’t have to fight it out on TV, I can just babble on about how you’re gonna win anyway cause you’re totally amazing!”  
  
Of course, Pearl’s careless compliments earn a blush from Marina, along with a very light smack to the top of her head.  “You’re amazing too, you know.”  
  
For a moment, Pearl’s chest seizes and she bites back a sudden, stinging cough.  It’s only her training in breath control that gets her to manage to not hack flower petals right then and there.  “Y-Yeah?  Well, I bet I think you’re more amazing than you think I’m amazing.”  Ha.  Saved it.  
  
“…that makes absolutely no sense, Pearl.”  
  
“It totally does and this Splatfest will prove it.”  She manages to stick her tongue out, but with the conversation officially closed Pearl can excuse herself without worrying Marina too much, rushing to the bathroom to hack and cough in peace and try her damned best to not linger on the fact that Marina called her amazing like it was the easiest thing in the world to say.  Sure, Marina called her _cute_ every now and then, but there was a stark difference in the shift from _cute_ to _amazing_.  
  
_It doesn’t mean anything.  She’s your friend.  If it meant something you wouldn’t choking up fucking flower petals over a sink…_  
  
\---  
  
Of course, things go to shit shortly after.  Not the announcement itself, for that goes wonderfully well and quickly becomes their highest-viewed news segment (even gaining thousands of hits on GooTube).  No, it’s the day they start their performance for the Splatfest that things quickly go sideways.  
  
They skip rehearsal, for one.  That’s nothing new.  They don’t often need to rehearse, merely warm up their voices and do a quick equipment check.  A skipped rehearsal isn’t enough to throw anyone off.  They know their songs forward and back, and they’re both keen enough to pick up on variations as needed.  Besides, the Splatfest performances were usually the same anyway.  They knew the route by heart.  
  
Except if they hadn’t skipped rehearsal, Pearl might have realized sooner that that day is _not_ a day for singing.  She coughs a bit during her warmup, chalks it off as nothing, and continues.  Then their set starts, and she jumps and dances on stage, singing with all the energy she’s used to.  They announce map rotations, then go right into Color Pulse.  Always the same.  
  
In the third verse it hits.  She watches Marina twirl, takes her cue, copies the synchronized movement with such ease.  Her breaths are coming fast, her heart is pounding, her lungs sting like she’s inhaled ice.  She feels it before it strikes and has just mind enough to hurriedly mute her mic.  Then she coughs.  Not a nice, polite little cough.  This one is hacking and wet and _loud_ , so powerful it makes her double over from the sheer force of it all.  Pressing her hand to her mouth doesn’t help, she’s barely a millisecond into the fit before she realizes she can’t _breathe_.  So she coughs and coughs, expelling air without drawing any in.  Her mind panics.  Tears sting at her eyes as her vision goes fuzzy.  She doesn’t even catch the reactions of the crowd.  One moment she’s spitting flower petals and ink into her fist (and, dear Cod, she barely registers that it’s too much ink, no cough should have that much ink--), then she’s on the ground, breathless and gasping and trying so hard to pull air into her lungs and failing with each vain, desperate wheeze.  
  
Everything hurts.  Her body, dimly from the fall.  Her throat, from the force of her coughs.  Her jaw.  Her chest – fuck, her _chest_ feels like it’s on fucking _fire_.  It hurts worse than anything, worse even than the electrical accident years ago, so much that it’s a fucking _blessing_ when the lack of air and everything else finally compiles enough and she passes out, hardly noticing Marina seeming to run for her in slow motion from across the stage.  
  
Pearl’s last thought is of Marina, wondering if she’d ever forgive her for ruining such an important moment in their lives over a stupid disease.  At the very least, Marina certainly can’t hate her more than she hates herself.  
  
\---  
  
When Pearl wakes up it’s to white walls, stale sheets, and an antiseptic tang in the air.  Hospital, she recognizes instantly.  Hard not to, her mattress at home isn’t nearly this hard on her back.  The ache in her chest is still there, still present, so at least her dad hasn’t called in and demanded the surgeons put her through the operation without her consent.  Which he likely would have, if he’d seen the live broadcast.  Which means he didn’t and for now she is safe until someone inevitably tells him about her public collapse.  
  
Er... or she isn’t, because Marina is _right there_.  
  
As soon as she spies the tentacles at the foot of her bed, sprawled out and one even wrapped protectively around as much of her ankle as it can reach, Pearl feels the guilt renewing with a vengeance.  Poor Marina.  She must have scared the woman half to death, and yet she remained here with her, sitting in an uncomfortable chair and leaned over to lay her cheek on the gurney while Pearl slept.  
  
She doesn’t want to wake Marina.  Partially due to the fact that waking Marina means they would have to _talk_ , and Pearl really doesn’t want to talk.  But mostly, Marina looks like she needs the sleep, like her collapse on stage just sapped a whole week of rest away from her friend in a single motion.  Logically, though, she should wake Marina, because she _knows_ that Marina has a nasty habit of falling asleep at a desk in that same position and it hurts her back every single time and _this_ time is no damn different.  
  
So, with a fresh wave of guilt, Pearl finally sits up to give the octoling a gentle shake.  “Ay,” she murmurs, surprised by how hoarse her voice is, “wake yo sleepy head up.”  Her efforts earn her a light smack from one of Marina’s other tentacles, but Pearl just huffs and gives her another shake.  “Reena.  Reena, come on.  Up you get, before you freeze in that position.”  
  
That does it.  Marina hates that nickname, and it’s what finally gets her to open her eyes with a displeased glare.  She sighs and eases up, stretching a bit slowly while her brain reboots.  Usually the woman needs insane amounts of caffeine to jumpstart her brain, but Pearl figures she’ll be fully coherent in a matter of moments.  
  
Naturally, she’s proven correct when Marina’s expression turns from general displeasure, to utterly _pissed_ in about three seconds flat.  
  
_“Pearl Hime Houzuki.”_   Ouch.  She even pulled out the full name.  Pearl winces.  “How could you?  You told me you were getting better!  You promised me you’d see a doctor, Pearl!  You _promised!_ ”  
  
Yeah.  She can’t fault Marina for being angry.  Pearl herself is pretty angry at herself.  “I know, I know.  I’m sorry, Marina.  But it’s not like a doctor could do anything for it, and I didn’t want you to worry.”  
  
“Didn’t want me to _worry?_ ”  Marina’s voice is incredulous.  Pearl finds herself shrinking more into herself, barely able to meet her friend’s gaze.  “So you just, just… you let it get so bad that you _suffocated on stage?!_ ”  She honestly can’t recall ever seeing Marina so upset, and it stings all the more because _she’s_ the reason her best friend is both fuming and trying desperately to not cry in frustration.  “You’re an idiot!  A complete, utter—” and she spits several words that Pearl cannot understand, but knows they must be Octarian curses of some kind.  
  
A sniffle punctuates the silence that follows, and that hurts worse of all.  Marina’s actually in tears now.  
  
“…I can’t deny any of that,” Pearl admits, voice quiet as she reaches for the tissues kept by the bedside.  She presses them into Marina’s hand, coaxing her fingers to relax from the fist she’s balled them into.  “You’re right.  And I know sorry ain’t gonna cut it, but I am.  I didn’t mean to hurt you, Marina.  I was just…”  
  
“Just.  _What._ ”  
  
She swallows.  No excuse sounds valid in the wake of that tone.  So she looks down, too shamed to even glance at Marina’s tear-streaked face.  “…just trying to live like I wasn’t stuck dealing with this sharkshit, I guess.  Just trying to be _normal_.”  
  
The chair Marina had been sitting in slides back with a screech so loud that it makes Pearl’s ears curl in on themselves.  She knows what’s coming even before Marina steps away from her bed.  “I need a moment,” the younger girl murmurs, voice like ice.  Pearl only nods as Marina walks out of the room and closes the door, leaving her with only the beeping of the machine monitoring her vitals for company.  
  
Pearl doubts the sick sound of her coughing will carry down the hall, so that’s at least one thing Marina doesn’t have to deal with.  Two, if she can manage to reach the trash to throw the petals away before Marina gets back.  
  
\---  
  
Marina doesn’t make it back in time to stop Pearl from discharging herself from the hospital.  She talks with the doctors a bit, but as soon as they start heavily suggesting that she should consider surgery now before the disease advances so much that they can’t even salvage her lungs, she’s gone.  Surgery is the last thing on her mind right now, and she doesn’t need Marina giving her disapproving looks for shrugging the doctor recommendations off.  So no, she’s not interested in surgery, no she doesn’t need to speak to a counselor about her condition, and _fuck you_ her mental state is not being affected due to stress, _thank you very fucking much_.  
  
Really, she only takes the surgeon’s information to get them to leave her the fuck alone.  Pearl has absolutely zero plans to actually call that number.  
  
She does, however, shoot a fast message to her lawyer.  There’s a meeting that needs scheduling and that can’t be put off much longer.  For good measure she does the responsible thing and texts her dad, because with the news of her collapse blowing up on the net he’s going to find out anyway and she figures bringing him in the loop now is better than later.  
  
That’s all she can do for the time being.  Her phone dies before she can send a message to Marina to ask if she should arrange for her own ride home, which is annoying but manageable.  Pearl doesn’t have to worry much, because she finds Marina in the parking lot in a manner of minutes.  Hard to miss, octolings were easy enough to spot when you knew the tells, and Pearl can pick Marina out in a crowd easily.  Plus, her bike isn’t exactly inconspicuous.  
  
Marina’s eyes are still a little puffy, meaning she’d only recently stopped crying.  She’s glaring down at her phone, typing one-handedly in a furious manner.  It makes Pearl hesitant about interrupting, but she clears her throat all the same, feeling so awkwardly small next to her best friend.  
  
“Yo.”  
  
It’s the lamest thing she’s said that day yet, but Marina glances up at her, narrows her eyes, and throws a helmet with enough force that it smacks into Pearl’s chest as she catches it with a soft _oof_.  “I’m still mad at you,” Marina mutters, and _no shit_ is Pearl’s first thought.  “When we get home, we’re going to talk about this.  Properly.  No more lies or secrets, Hime.”  Not only is Marina breaking out the proper names, but there’s also no cutesy nicknames, which is proof enough that the octoling is dead serious.  There’s going to be no wriggling her way out of this one.  
  
Pearl sighs.  “Alright, Marina.”  She pulls the helmet on, buckles it tight, and lets Marina mount up first before taking her spot behind her.  Marina waits only long enough for Pearl to grab on to her waist before she’s tearing out of the parking lot, and though Pearl usually scolds the girl for her reckless driving she keeps her mouth shut about it just this once.  She figures Marina could burn some frustration and wouldn’t appreciate the scolding.  
  
They make it back (miraculously unharmed and in one piece, though Pearl swears every time she gets on that bike with Marina it knocks another year of her life off, and it sucks because with the stupid disease she can’t even _joke_ about it any more--) and head inside.  The manor is as empty as it usually is, spacious and quiet.  Pearl doesn’t even think about bolting to her room and hiding away because even though Marina might not be looking her way, she can feel that mental glare with every step.  
  
So it’s into the dining room she goes.  Neutral ground.  No distractions.  Pearl hates it, but she takes a seat in a chair too tall for her and swings her short legs restlessly.  Marina, poised that she is, doesn’t join her immediately.  Which is even worse, because it means Pearl has to stew in silence while the octoling tinkers around the kitchen.  
  
When she comes back it’s with two glasses of juice.  Pearl doesn’t even comment on it, just quietly accepts the glass that’s offered to her with a quiet murmur of gratitude and takes a slow sip.  
  
Marina is the first to break the uncomfortable silence, all business-like.  “How long has this been going on?”  
  
The inkling licks juice from her upper lip and considers. “The Splatfest was two days ago… it’ll be four months tomorrow.”  She manages to say it so _casually_ , but Marina still narrows her pretty eyes at her and Pearl feels like a child being quietly scolded for an incorrect answer.  
  
“Who is it?” is the next question, and Pearl coughs awkwardly.  That’s a secret she’s not ready to share.  
  
“Pass.”  
  
Which doesn’t fly with Marina.  She just glares all the harder.  “You agreed, Pearl.  No more secrets.”  
  
“I don’t care what I agreed—”  
  
“Well _I_ do!”  It’s a brief outburst, one Marina bites back immediately.  She takes a breath, swallows, and purses her lips in a pout.  Long fingers reach for her hand, and Pearl lets Marina hold on even as it stings.  “Please, Pearl.  You could have _died_.  Just tell me who it is.  Have you even talked to them yet?”  
  
Of course Marina would pull out the collapse.  Which is just _unfair_ because she _didn’t_ die.  But words don’t come easily, and so Marina takes Pearl’s silence for stubborn obstinance.  “Pearl.  I’m just trying to help.  You’re my best friend, you know this.  I don’t want to see you do this to yourself.”  
  
There it is.  The disappointed tone.  Pearl feels her eyes growing wet.  She shakes her head and looks down at the table, at Marina’s fingers squeezing her own, as if she could press all the answers out of her with such a simple gesture.  
  
“ _Please_ , Pearl?  I trusted you with every secret I have.  What’s so bad that you can’t trust me this one time I’m asking you to?”  
  
That’s…. that’s really not fair, and Pearl feels her already weak resolve cracking.  She sniffles, and oh fuck there the tears start.  She hates crying, it makes breathing hard and gives her a headache.  But there she is, sitting at the table, clutching Marina’s hand and already starting to sob.  And Marina doesn’t help, because Marina grabs her and pulls her close, sits Pearl right on her lap because she’s small enough to fit there and hugs her tight.  
  
“I know you’re scared, Pearlie.  It’s okay.  Just tell me, and we’ll work it out together.  Promise.”  
  
It’s so, so _easy_ for Marina to just say that.  It’s a damn lie, too, because as soon as Pearl tells her then there’s no guarantee that Marina won’t just… leave.  And that scares her.  But the octoling knows she’s already won, because Pearl is a weak, weak woman when it comes to that pleading tone and Marina’s gentle assurances.  It doesn’t hurt to believe them for a second.  
  
“It’s you,” she whispers, chokes it out on her own tears.  And Pearl can’t see her expression, but she knows in a damn instant that Marina tenses.  The hand on her back stops moving and every muscle in Marina’s body goes taut.  “It’s you,” Pearl repeats, just in case she wasn’t clear.  She goes to extract herself and it breaks her hearts that Marina doesn’t even make to grab for her to keep her close.  She peels herself away from her best friend and grins even through her heartache and tears, teal petals sticking to her beak.  “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”  
  
She’s such a damn coward that she doesn’t even wait for Marina to recover for that revelation.  She turns and takes the stairs two at a time up to her room and shuts herself in.  
  
\---  
  
Pearl doesn’t see Marina for the rest of that day.  Or the next.  A peek in the garage shows that the bike is gone.  Likely Marina’s off doing anything except thinking about the stupid disease and the fact that her best friend is in love with her.  Stupid.  She should have kept her big mouth shut.  
  
But Pearl can’t dwell.  She’s got shit to do, people to see, carp to plan for.  
  
A quick call to the family chauffeur and then she’s off.  Her dad couldn’t fly in for the meeting, but he’s capable of talking over a video call.  It’s good enough, and her lawyer doesn’t complain.  Business-like talks have never been Pearl’s strongest suit, but she’s done her homework this time.  
  
It isn’t hard to talk property acquisition, and the setting aside of funds to go towards building a homeless shelter in Inkopolis.  It’s not much, and her dad just assumes it to be a philanthropic endeavor that celebrities do all the time to shift focus away from some other issue in their lives, and he’s partially right.  This’ll take the heat off of the news blowing up about Pearl’s onstage collapse, but more than that, and what they don’t need to know, is that it’s for the octolings.  For the all the ones she never met but knows they’ve come to Inkopolis to seek a better life away from Octarian society.  It’s to help them get on their feet.  It’s such a small endeavor, but Pearl knows that for those kids migrating in it’ll mean the world.  
  
Maybe it’s one of the few things she’ll be able to do _right,_ before she dies.  Having her name immortalized in Off The Hook is nice, but this?  This’ll change _lives_.  
  
Once that’s settled, they get to the meat of the matter.  Pearl’s last will and testament.  Best to get it done now, in case she has a collapse as bad as she had on stage.  At least she already has an idea of where she wants everything to fall.  Simple enough – everything goes to Marina.  Not just because she’s in love.  Not just because Marina’s her best friend.  But Marina is _smart_ and _talented_ and she knows that even when she’s gone Marina will still be out there, spinning songs powerful enough to move a crowd to tears.  She’ll still be living.  Maybe she’ll find a lover one day, and they’ll never have to see an inkstained flower petal.  Maybe she’ll even have kids of her own.  The least Pearl can do is leave her a good safety net, a _just in case_ precaution.  
  
She even manages to talk her dad into considering Marina as an heir to the family fortune.  He agrees to think it over, and when she leaves the office and he calls, she doesn’t hesitate to pick up.  
  
“It’s for her, isn’t it?” he asks his daughter, voice quiet, barely containing his own heartbreak.  
  
“Yeah, dad,” she answers, truthful as anything.  
  
To her surprise, to her honest surprise, he doesn’t even talk about surgery.  They talk about everything but that.  It’s… actually nice.  They have a good, long conversation in the building foyer.  For once, Pearl’s chest doesn’t even hurt.  She smiles, she laughs.  She doesn’t think about tomorrow, or if there’s even going to be a tomorrow.  When they hang up, it’s even with soft “love you”s and tender goodbyes.  
  
All in all, a productive day.  
  
\---  
  
“Should we cancel the tour?” Marina asks, chewing at her lower lip as she looks Pearl’s way.  
  
They’d been dancing around each other since Pearl admitted she was in love with her.  Marina for… well, her own reasons, she presumes.  Pearl because _what more do you say after that_?  So really, having Marina speak up to her makes Pearl jump in surprise because she hadn’t been expecting it.  
  
“Nah,” the inkling shrugs.  “I’ll be careful, and there’s medicine I can take for temporary relief.  We should go out with a bang.”  
  
That’s another thing they hadn’t spoken about.  Them.  Off The Hook.  What’s going to happen to the band.  And by the way Marina frowns, Pearl knows that it’s about to come up, so she tackles it before the octoling can start.  “Look, Marina.  You’ve got more talent in one finger  than any other band out there right now.  You’ll make a great name for yourself solo.  If anything, I’m the one that’s been riding on your success these years.”  
  
It’s not a lie.  Cut any of Pearl’s raps out of their music, and the music still managed to flow beautifully.  You could have Off The Hook without Pearl, but you couldn’t have it without Marina.  
  
But Marina’s frown deepens.  She’s not at all reassured.  “Or,” and her voice is hesitant, like she knows she’s walking on thin ice around this topic, “you can get the surgery.”  
  
Pearl honestly should have seen it coming.  This?  This is going to lead into another argument, and Pearl doesn’t think she has the patience enough for it.  Scratch that, she _knows_ her patience is frayed.  
  
“No,” she says, crosses her arms over her chest, and meets Marina’s eyes.  Daring her to object because this is one topic she’s _not_ budging on.  
  
“Pearl, you’re being _utterly ridiculous_ ,” it’s that scolding tone again, like she’s talking to Pearl as if she’s a child.  
  
Pearl juts her chin out and curls her lip.  Obstinate.  “I don’t care.  I’m not getting the surgery.  My lawyer’s already got my official stance on that, too.”  
  
“You _spoke to your lawyer_ about it?”  
  
She can’t help it, she smirks in self-satisfaction.  “Yup.  Got everything squared away.  Will’s already been drawn up and all.”  
  
“And your father?”  
  
“He knows and supports my decisions.”  Pearl’s smiling, because really what can Marina possibly say to this?  She’s safe.  There’s no way Marina can coax her into getting the damn surgery, and there’s no way Pearl is gonna let her resolve crumple in this regard.  
  
Marina still bites back at her.  “How can you sit there and _smile_ about it?  You’re _killing yourself_!  And for _what_ , Pearl?  To prove a point?  Or, or… I don’t know!  How can you be so _calm_ about all of this?”  
  
“I ain’t calm,” Pearl corrects, voice surprisingly soft.  “I’m scared half to death.  I’m terrified.  But there’s nothing that can be done about it, so why bother?”  
  
“You can go through with the surgery!”  She sees tears starting to make Marina’s eyes wet.  She always cries when she’s frustrated.  “That’s not _nothing_ , Pearl!”  
  
“It’s not a damn solution,” she growls back.  “It doesn’t solve a damn fucking thing.”  
  
“It’ll keep you from _dying_!  I think _that_ solves plenty!”  Marina sniffs.  “How can you be this _selfish_?  Isn’t Off The Hook worth living for, Pearl?  Aren’t _I_?”  
  
Before she can stop herself, Pearl’s on her feet, fists balled at her sides and anger surging anew.  Words come tumbling out before she can even stop herself or think about what she’s saying.  “Fuck you, Marina.  Just because my feelings are for you doesn’t change the fact that they’re _my_ fucking feelings.”  Marina’s too stunned by her sudden biting tones to come back with a fast argument.  Good.  It means Pearl can keep going, before her brain catches up and she questions what the _shell_ she’s doing.  “Second- secondly, don’t you _dare_ insinuate that I haven’t been giving this any thought, because I fucking _have_.  I’ve been thinking about nothing else for the past five coddamn months.  And third-!”  
  
Pearl doesn’t get to point three.  Her emotions are on too high and she’s not drawing enough air into her lungs.  The coughing fit that takes her is a bad one, and her mouth fills with petals and ink so fast that she barely has time to stumble towards the bathroom.  
  
She can barely feel Marina’s hands on her tentacles, pushing them back and holding them out of the way as she kneels before the toilet, hacking and wheezing so hard that tears spring to her eyes.  The fit leaves her drained and tired, all the adrenaline from their argument bleeding out of her body with every flower she coughs into the toilet bowl.  
  
In the end, she rests her cheek to the porcelain, eyes squeezed shut as her shoulders heave with silent cries.  
  
“Please, Marina,” she whispers, voice so low that she might as well not even be talking, pitiful and soft.  “I’m sorry for yelling.  You’re my best friend.  What if I lose that too?  Please don’t ask me to go back to who I was before I met you.  _Please_.  I don’t want to be that girl again.  Please don’t make me go back.”  
  
If Marina says anything, she doesn’t know.  Pearl hears nothing but the sound of the flushing toilet and her own sad sobs.  
  
\---  
  
They don’t cancel the tour and Marina drops the talks about surgery and treatment.  Things.. well, they don’t go back to normal, but they don’t get worse either.  Pearl is careful, and Marina is mindful enough.  Pearl will laugh a little too hard, will lose her breath, and Marina is right there with a glass for her to drink, or brings the bin over for her to dispose of the petals.  
  
It’s… better.  It’s much better than the awkward runaround they had been giving each other since Pearl told Marina that she was in love with her.  They can joke and have fun again and Pearl wouldn’t give that up for anything in the world.  Marina doesn’t even fuss about Pearl passing out to sleep on the couch after they play games together, and Pearl spends more time just in the woman’s presence.  
  
They’re _friends_ , after all.  No amount of flower petals will change that.  
  
The first day of their tour comes around and Pearl is excited.  They’d been rehearsing and practicing and getting ready for the big day.  Though there’s a proper tour bus, she tugs Marina’s spare helmet on and hops on the bike behind her, holding on tight.  She wouldn’t give up the chance to ride with Marina for anything in the world.  
  
So off they go, with Pearl’s hearts pounding in her ears and the sound of the bike deafening her to everything else.  Inkopolis’ lights flash by as Marina drives like a woman possessed, and Pearl gleefully holds on for the ride.  
  
She’s so caught up in just enjoying the drive that she doesn’t notice the car losing control in the oncoming lane.  
  
One moment she’s holding on to Marina.  The next, her world is utter agony.  The sound of the bike is gone, the wind is too.  She can barely hear shouts, alarms, and general mayhem.  Feebly she tries to move – when did she end up on the pavement? – tries to get her bearings.  It’s hard.  Everything hurts so much…  
  
Where’s Marina?  
  
She thinks she manages to ask it aloud, but the petals spilling from her lips belies that.  She coughs, and tries again, but the stench of glass and metal and ink cloys heavily in her nostrils.  
  
By the time the EMTs arrive she’s managed to get five inches across the lane to where the ruins of the bike is – poor Marina, she _loved_ that bike so much, she’s going to be devastated that it’s a wreck now.  They grab her before she can go further, hoist her up (which just makes her shriek in anguish), and strap her to the stretcher.  A nurse talks to her, and she thinks they might be telling her that everything is going to be okay, but then an IV is going into her arm and Pearl feels her eyelids getting heavy.  
  
The last thing she remembers seeing before the ambulance doors shut her in is a smear of teal ink on the other side of the bike.  
  
\---  
  
She’s at the hospital again.  
  
Worse, when she wakes the pain in her chest is gone.  Pearl hurts all over, but the constant pain she’d gotten used to in her lungs is just _gone_.  
  
Naturally, she panics.  
  
Had the doctors operated while she’d been unconscious?  Had something happened to Marina?  Could hanahaki vanish if the one you loved died?  
  
That thought brings tears to her eyes, and she bites her lips.  Crying just makes the general aches and pains that much worse.  
  
“Miss Houzuki?” one of the nurses asks as he checks in, tablet in hand.  “You’re awake.  Are you in any pain?  Do you need anything?  That accident was rather nasty, you’ve very lucky Miss Iida has such quick reflexes, or it would have been much worse for you both…”  
  
Instead of answering his questions, Pearl just manages to croak desperately.  “Marina?”  
  
“She’s right next door.  Let me just manage the curtain for you,” and he comes in to pull the curtain aside, letting Pearl see that Marina is alive and well, merely asleep in the bed next to her, a few bandages covering some of her own injuries.  She’s okay, though, and Pearl almost sobs in relief.  
  
She’s okay, Marina’s okay…  
  
Frankly, Pearl doesn’t care about the accident details.  She gets the gist – another driver lost control, Marina’s quick reaction time spilled them out on the pavement but stopped them from taking a direct hit – but other than making her that much more appreciative for her friend, Pearl couldn’t care less.  Marina’s alive.  Marina’s going to recover.  
  
There’s no questioning the lack of pangs in her chest.  Pearl falls back asleep soon enough, happy to just know that she didn’t lose her best friend.  
  
\---  
  
“You heard the doc.  Your balance is gonna be shit for a few more days.  Stop being so damn stubborn and lean on me,” Pearl huffs.  
  
They’ve both been discharged, and after being dropped off back home (so much for the tour), the two girls had tried to return back to their regular lives.  Tried, because Marina’s legs were refusing to hold her weight evenly.  Though Pearl had healed up nicely with minimal cuts and bruising, Marina still had some time more to go before she would be back to full strength.  
  
Though she wasn’t about to admit defeat so easily.  “As if you’re one to talk, Pearlie.  How even am I supposed to lean on you, considering you’re so _short_?”  
  
“Careful, Marina, them’s fighting words.”  
  
“Not much of a fight, I think my _cane_ is taller than you— _eep!_ ”  And before Marina can say more, Pearl picks her up.  One hand to her back, another under her knees.  Marina yelps in surprise, of course, and flails a bit to have her center of gravity shift that rapidly.  She grabs hold of Pearl’s shirt out of reflex, but Pearl doesn’t even flinch.  She just grins triumphantly as she carries her friend the rest of the way up to their home.  
  
Marina is deposited on the couch without much ceremony, and then Pearl is collapsing next to her because contrary to what any cheesy romance movie would have you believe, carrying someone takes a lot of energy.  She should have asked Marina to go octopus.  It would have been easier to ferry her around.  
  
So they settle on the couch in companionable silence, nestling against each other for the sheer comfort of having the other close and well.  Pearl practically flops over on Marina’s lap, and Marina lets her with a hum, idly playing with her tentacles.  
  
“So,” Pearl breaks the quiet after a while, cracking one golden eye open to blink up at her best friend.  “I got a question.”  
  
There’s amusement in Marina’s smile, and it makes Pearl’s three hearts all flutter at once.  “Shoot.”  
  
“How come I’m not coughing up flower petals any more, huh?”  
  
Marina must have expected that question, but the blush that takes her cheeks is still endearing.  She’s so cute when she’s all flustered, and before she can hide her face behind her hands, Pearl snags one and brings it up to her lips, daringly pressing a kiss to teal fingertips.  
  
“I think you already know the answer to that, Pearlie,” Marina shyly murmurs, squirming in place.  
  
Pearl is endeared enough to smile all the wider.  She doesn’t ask when, or how, or why.  There’s no need for stupid questions like that.  Her chest and lungs are full, not with flower petals, but love for her best friend.  
  
When Marina leans down, Pearl meets her half way, kissing her as sweetly as she knows how.  
  
\---  
  
_HYPERB0MB >  Ayo!  It’s been a while, but I’m still kicking.  Thought I’d share an update with ya’ll!  
  
HYPERB0MB >  I_GOT_THE_GIRL.jpeg_

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for Splatoon, and when I noticed the lack of angst fics I felt the need to do something for my favorite girls. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Happy pride month!


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